


In This Corner of The World

by amoralagent



Series: Domesticity and Death [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Drawing, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Murder Husbands, Nature, People Watching, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Requited Love, Summer Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Walks In The Woods, m/m even if you close your eyes, references to drowning, so in love it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 22:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoralagent/pseuds/amoralagent
Summary: A cool breeze briefly whipped and tickled at the leaves, the grass swaying in it's wake, and a few of Will's brown curls were brushed off of his forehead. It was cold on his bare arms. When it had died down, the scene stilled, crisp. Will squinted against the sunlight and the salted air, tasting it on his tongue when he breathed. It made him want to cough and spit it out. Instead, he sighed, and sat back with his palms spread wide on the earth behind him, enjoying the dulled warmth of the sun as he closed his eyes.A domestic snapshot of watching the seascape and indulging in each other's company.





	In This Corner of The World

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a scene of dialogue, and the general gorgeous aesthetic, from the film of the same name. I highly recommend watching it, but it is very emotional, so be warned.

A cool breeze briefly whipped and tickled at the leaves, the grass swaying in it's wake, and a few of Will's brown curls were brushed off of his forehead. It was cold on his bare arms. When it had died down, the scene stilled, crisp. Will squinted against the sunlight and the salted air, tasting it on his tongue when he breathed. It made him want to cough and spit it out. Instead, he sighed, and sat back with his palms spread wide on the earth behind him, enjoying the dulled warmth of the sun as he closed his eyes.

Without looking or hearing him, Will felt Hannibal approach. Knew his movements when he emerged through the trees. Like he could recognise him through vibrations, from how the soft pads of his feet against the ground were felt in his fingertips. From his scent alone, or from his touch. The sun reappeared from behind a cloud. Will opened his eyes, "I thought you'd come and find me."

"I'm glad to be thought of." Came the reply, a hand gentle against his skull, stroking his messed hair. Will craned his neck back and looked up at him, all full beard and too tall from the angle. Seeing him dressed so casually in pyjama slacks and one of Will's sweaters was a treat in itself.

"I'm just admiring the view." Hannibal looked down at him then, expression fond.

"Which view?" He teased, smile in his eyes. The faint crash of the waves against the shore resounded in Will's chest as his heartbeat.

Will scoffed and looked back at the boats on the water that looked like toys from the distance: "This one. It's a beautiful day."

Humming an agreement, Hannibal took his hand from his hair and moved to sit cross-legged beside him, as close as he liked. He looked down at a stolen moleskin sketchbook and the charcoal and pencils wrapped in tissue paper that were sat beside Will's thigh in the grass, "Did you come here to draw it? The ocean?"

Following his gaze, Will smiled, "They're for you. I thought you'd like to." Hannibal deftly picked up the book and held it open in his palm as he collected a pencil.

"Wouldn't you?"

"No." Will sighed, listening to the birds chirp in the trees above them, "It almost swallowed us whole. I couldn't draw it." He sat forward a little, dirtied hands in his lap, and watched the swift, shushing movements of the graphite against the page.

"Why's that?" Hannibal queried, looking from the seascape, to the page, to Will's hands.

Will looked away from him. He studied the dots of people on the beach and his expression demurred, "I hate it." He said, matter-of-factly, without any anger there. Hannibal tilted his head toward him.

"Can you hate something for doing what is in it's nature?" Will's eyes met his and he admired the angles of his face, the softness of his skin. Then he sighed again, leaning a bit closer and into Hannibal's side but looking off to the horizon.

"The rabbits are hopping today. It's a nice sight, at least. You should sit and draw it." _Instead of asking questions._ Hannibal obliged him, concentrating on his sketching even when Will moved closer, worming an arm under his, and rested his head against his shoulder to smell his musk and hearing his breath. Comforting himself. Enamoured by Hannibal's ever-grounding presence, open to him entirely.

It helped him keep memories at bay of when they washed up on a shore thousands of miles away in the slick dark of night, unmoving. Then Will had gasped, choked up seawater and bile from his lungs, felt the sand and blood and water cloying against his skin. He'd had to blindly find Hannibal beside him, roll him over, and push rhythmically against his chest until he felt ribs snap and heard a cough.

He didn't want to remember that panic, that fear, that gut-wrenching pain; he only wanted to remember the relief that flooded him, made everything else mean nothing. Made the man sat beside him everything, in that moment, that hazed snap of clarity.

It had taken drowning in the depths of the roiling Atlantic to truly understand himself. To understand them.

He wouldn't let the sea, or anything, take Hannibal away again.

"What did you mean earlier?" Hannibal asked, "About the rabbits?" Considering the depth of shading in Hannibal's drawing and wanting the hands that crafted it to be _on_ him, around him, Will blinked, glancing to the vivid blue water once more.

"The white waves look like rabbits hopping." Will mused, and saw the smile that appeared in the corners of Hannibal's mouth, "The sea was like this when I watched a little fishing boat capsize."

"And as I recall, you laughed at it."

"That I did." Will conceded, reflecting Hannibal's smile like the ocean reflected the sky. He turned and watched Hannibal's profile as he worked, serene, a small smile still there. Leaning in, he kissed the side of his neck, then his cheekbone, and Hannibal made a low sound like a purr, not startled, and turned to him. Will smiled, and Hannibal's hand dropped the pencil to hold Will's face as they kissed.


End file.
